


Take Me

by Nana_41175



Series: Taken [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, folllowed by all the sexytimes, newlyweds!, weird dream sequence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22633651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: Q dreams of his ex, Daniel.“Good or bad, your memories are yours,” said Bond. “Your past loves, your feelings. They make up who you are. They’re a part of you. And I love all of you.”
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Taken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579657
Comments: 12
Kudos: 121





	Take Me

**Author's Notes:** Hi everyone, and welcome to yet another part of Taken! The story is actually finished, but the Muse wanted to add a bit of an epilogue to it (and also because we've begun to miss this little world so much). Enjoy and do let us know what you think!

Follow me at [**my tumblr**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/) for more 00Q as well as updates and teasers for my other fics!

* * *

It came out of the blue, his dream of Daniel.

Q had not thought of him for quite a while and then, suddenly, this.

They were making love with all the fervor of their first few weeks together, when everything had felt so new, and even then, what they had was something easy and unhurried. Q had other, secret, preferences when it came to making love, but this suited him just fine. He was grateful for Daniel’s consideration, his teasing ways. He’d got used to Daniel and his maddening way of holding off, not giving him what he wanted immediately in order to ramp up the excitement.

It was all fine, he told himself. They were still new to each other and would need time to adjust. He still couldn’t quite believe that Daniel had decided to move in with him after a few months of dating.

He seemed to remember that they had been fighting. It was all very vague, but the fight had been a huge one.

Now, everything was lovely. They must have patched things up. Relieved, Q turned his face upward for more of Daniel’s slow kisses. He could feel him, Daniel’s hard length lodged deep within his body, and wished that he would just fucking _move._

“Oh, baby,” sighed Daniel as he began to rock his hips minutely against him. “You feel so hot, so tight. So bloody perfect.”

And Q couldn’t feel anything, even as Daniel’s movements quickened against him, inside him.

Quite suddenly, it was as though he’d gone numb inside, even as he clung on to Daniel with his hands on his arms.

Deeply confused, he stared up at this man hovering over him whose face was now contorted with pleasure, and realized with a kind of shock that he did not know him. Not really. He was familiar; they had been together but Q did not know who this man really was. There ought to be another. Not this man whom he’d previously been in love with.

He now loved another.

James— that was his name.

He loved James.

 _“James.”_ The name fell from his lips as Q jerked awake abruptly, quite horrified as the dream continued to reverberate through him. It was so fresh, he caught himself still moving to the rhythm of their bodies as he came awake— Daniel’s rhythm.

 _Bloody Christ,_ he thought, body stiffening in shocked revulsion. _What the hell._

He felt movement behind him, followed by the feel of warm, heavy arms enclosing him in a loose embrace.

“You were dreaming,” came the low voice, rough from sleep, just an inch from his ear.

Q instantly relaxed against Bond’s embrace, sweet relief tinged with a deep sadness coursing through him as the dream gradually ebbed away. “Did I…say anything?”

“You were moaning a bit.”

“It was rather bizarre,” Q said after a moment as he collected himself. His heart was still hammering away inside his chest.

Q felt Bond’s mouth curve up in a smile against the sensitive skin of his neck, just underneath his jawline. “I wouldn’t have thought so, to judge from the way you were rutting against me,” he said.

“I wish I were dreaming of you,” said Q with a soft groan as he turned to burrow against Bond’s chest.

“You weren’t?” Bond’s voice was more amused than anything.

“See, this is what happens when we have way too much alcohol and sex in one night,” complained Q, trying to change the subject. “Everything gets into our brains during sleep and spills over into something weird.”

“Hmm. Or maybe we’ve not had enough sex,” Bond pointed out, “for you not to dream of me. Have you thought of it like that?”

“Oh, do stop teasing,” replied Q testily. “It was really rather hideous."

"Hmm," said Bond. "You were dreaming of your ex, no doubt."

Q stared at him. "How do you know?"

Bond shrugged. "Experience," he said laconically. "And you're right, it can get...tricky."

Q let out a breath and said, "you weren’t in it at all. Daniel was. We’d managed to patch things up and were having make-up sex. I couldn’t even figure out your name until the last minute.”

The lazy smirk was back on Bond's lips. “Well, at least my name came up.”

“Bond,” huffed Q, not amused.

“It’s just a dream,” said Bond, his voice a soothing, low purr as he let his hands roam lazily over Q’s stiff frame. After a minute or so, he said, “I’ll make you feel better, if you want.”

Q turned to him readily enough. “Yes, please,” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss him.

He loved these quiet, lazy mornings in bed with Bond. They did not have quite enough of them, so every opportunity that came their way was to be cherished, indulged in.

He could never get enough of Bond’s kisses, hungry and so achingly tender, all at once.

 _This_ , he thought as he took Bond’s mouth, the sweetly savage tangle of lips and tongues serving to push the remnants of the dream farther away to a distant corner of his mind.

This was what he wanted, what he craved.

Somehow, he ended up on top of Bond, his lover’s warm, hard flesh beneath his hands and their legs entwined. Bond’s fingers were on his nape, holding him in place as the kisses lengthened, became complicated.

He broke the kiss with a small gasp, feeling the scrape of morning stubble against his skin as Bond rubbed his face against him playfully. He reached up to pluck his glasses from the bedside table and donned them on.

The blurred world around him came sharply into focus then: their large, airy hotel room in Capri with the French windows thrown open to admit bright sunlight and the sea breeze; Bond’s eyes, impossibly blue and very fond as he gazed at Q; a mess of rumpled, white linen all around them; the glint of gold on their linked fingers.

 _That’s right_ , thought Q as the last traces of sleep left him. He was here in Capri, with his husband, on the final leg of their honeymoon.

They’d had a small, private ceremony back home with just a few close friends in attendance. Even now, it thrilled him to remember how they had exchanged rings, the way James had looked at him when he’d slipped the slim gold band onto his finger.

There followed three perfect weeks of a dream honeymoon all over Southern Europe, where Bond, still mindful of atonement, lavished Q with the kind of courtship that their previous, unfortunate circumstances had denied him and which Bond felt he deserved.

So where did that dream about Daniel even come from? 

“Hello, lover,” he now whispered as he gazed down at Bond.

“Good morning,” returned Bond, with a soft smile, “darling.”

Q’s kisses were demanding now, almost harsh as he ground himself on Bond’s thigh. He was embarrassed that the dream had made him half-hard and he wanted James to be the sole reason for it.

Bond merely pulled him in, indulgent as he ran possessive hands all over Q’s back. He let Q work it off for a bit before he made to slow him down.

“There’s no need to feel bad about the dream,” said Bond.

Q flushed a deeper shade of red. “Dammit, Bond, I—”

“Good or bad, your memories are yours,” said Bond. “Your past loves, your feelings. They make up who you are. They’re a part of you. And I love all of you.”

Q closed his eyes briefly. “How do you do it, Bond,” he said softly. “Bottling up all those painful memories of yours.”

“I don’t let them rule me,” answered Bond, “by letting them haunt me or get in the way of what I want. But that doesn’t mean I have to forget them."

“All I want right now,” said Q as he trailed delicate kisses down Bond’s neck, his chest, “is you.”

“Have me, then,” growled Bond, the challenge in his words unmistakable, and Q was never one to back down from him.

He let his open mouth trail down Bond’s straining flesh, teasing the head of his cock with his warm, moist breath and hot, little flicks of his tongue before settling his lips around it for a brief suck. He felt Bond jolt beneath him, followed by a muttered curse. The fingers in his hair were alternately hard, then caressing, as he ran his tongue down Bond’s length. He knew that Bond liked the teasing little touches despite his guttural protests, which Q took for encouragement more than anything else.

He took him in, deep, when Bond's movements changed, grew urgent.

He knew that Bond was primed and ready when he was taken by firm hands and pulled up to meet Bond’s mouth for more heated kisses before he was laid down and spread wide open beneath his lover’s gaze; Bond’s questing, lubricated fingers gaining easy entry into his warm, waiting body.

“Don’t take too long,” whispered Q, hands caressing Bond wherever he could reach him. “I’m still ready from last night.”

And he was pliant and open and marvelously willing, after last night when it seemed they had made love for hours.

“So you are, love,” murmured Bond, pleased, as he slicked himself up and slid into him in one smooth motion.

Q twined his arms and legs around him, feeling Bond settle over him, so close, enveloping him in a warm, encompassing embrace. He could not help the small sigh of satisfaction at having Bond inside him at last.

“Take me. Just take me,” he whispered in Bond’s ear as he rutted against him impatiently, crude with want, spurring Bond on.

“With pleasure,” Bond growled back, his mouth hard against Q’s just as he began to thrust.

Q liked their coupling hard and fast, and he adored Bond for indulging him. He relished the moment when his busy, fretting mind would white out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure Bond could give him, yet Bond was a generous lover, capable of great tenderness amidst the savagely physical act of taking. It made for an intoxicating combination, hot and sweet, and Q was hopelessly addicted.

 _This_ , thought Q as he turned to bury his nose in the hollow of Bond’s throat, inhaling deeply his scent, letting Bond fill him in body and heart and mind.

There had been a time when he’d not dared to hope for this, any of this; when he’d thought he could settle for an ordinary life, being loved by an ordinary man and be completely happy. It had not been that simple, and when this came, finally, he’d been terrified that Bond’s love would burn right through him, consume his heart until there was nothing left.

He’d not thought himself capable of handling Bond at all, until Bond had to remind him that he’d been handling him for years. Handled him and taken care of him and loved him.

Just as he was being thoroughly loved now.

He threw his head back, when the moment came, hands clawing into Bond’s back, mouth forming around a word, repeated over and over as he felt Bond groan and shudder and spill within him: _Yes, yes, yes…_

He adored the aftermath as well, that warm afterglow as they lay, throbbing bodies still entwined— a time for slow kisses and caresses, and softly murmured words.

_I love you._

And, “here. Your glasses are almost off your nose.”

Q giggled as Bond adjusted his glasses for him. He peered at Bond to see him smiling lopsidedly at him, very pleased.

“You see me now?” said Bond.

“I see you perfectly, James.”

Bond kissed him. “You make love like a dream, darling.”

Q smiled at him softly, sated with bliss. “You’re better than any dream, lover.”


End file.
